From The Front Lines: The Locust War
by Overseerneversleeps
Summary: A collection of storys from the soldiers who fought in The Locust War, spanning from Emergence Day to the final Battle of Azura. Rated M for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_(Author's Note: Greetings Reader, and welcome to my newest project. I have thought of writing a few Gears of War one-shots for awhile now, wich spawned this idea. I have always loved novels from in the oral history style, weather fiction or non- fiction, so why not write Gears of War that way? This is the tale of a journalist taking down the testimony of many soldiers throughout the Gears world, and the part they took in the war. As a result, there will be many OCs, and many battles re-imagined, expanded apon, or even created. The Gears universe is large, and I intend to use it as my creative playground. However, I will stick to cannon as best I can. I do not own Gears of War, or claim to. This is a work of fanfiction, and is for fun not profit. Please read and review, and and most importantly enjoy)_

It has been five years since the end of the war to end all wars. Five years ago Humanity rose from the ashes to defeat their enemy, and insure their survival.

That enemy was The Locust Horde. For eighteen years we fought that underground-dwelling race of genocidal monsters, and just bairly survived. The losses were great; to great for our victory to be a joyous one. We survived, at a price.

However to paraphrase the late Chairman Richard Prescott, we have endured, watched the seasons pass, and our children grow. Five years after the Battle of Azura, the final battle of The Locust War, things are on the verge of normalcy. We have begun to rebuild our citys and towns. Our government has been reformed and is stronger then ever. Humanity has banded together in ways no one thought possible, and our society has seen a time of peace that we have never known.

The War however has left scars on both this land and its people. As a result, we cannot and will not let it be forgotten, lest those who fought be as well.

My name is Alexander Jamieson, a former soldier and current journalist. I saw the horrors of the Locust for the nearly two decade they waged war agenst us. I fought along side ever able bodied man and women Sera had to offer. I saw blood, pain, loss, fear and ultimately, victory.

Everyone knows the story of current Coalition of Ordered Governments Chairman Marcus Fenix. His biography, The Gears of War, has been read by nearly every citizen. Delta squad is legendary and rightfully so.

Wars are not won by one man, or even one squad. While it is certain that humanity would not have survived without Delta Squad and Adam Fenix's Emulsion Countermeasure, many others fought the Locust. Many sacrificed there lives in defence of the human race. These storys, the storys of the men on the front lines, deserve to be told.

This book is a journey of one journalist, to meet the people who fought and survived. This is a book of their storys, told in their words. This book is what our people did to survive. This is From The Front Lines: The Locust War.

* * *

><p>I made a great deal of calls and wrote many letters, trying to find people to interview. Things were slow at first. I began to doubt that I would hear back from anyone. Perhaps no one wanted to share their tales. Perhaps it was too soon to speak of The Locust and all the death they caused.<p>

After a month however, finally someone surfaced. The man, in fact, came into my office one rather uneventfull day. He was gruff, and just walked in and sat down.

He was a large, burly man that stood about six feet tall. His arms were very thick, and covered in tattoos. I could make out some of them, such as the symbol of the UIR above a Markza sniper rifle. I could see names and ranks, likely his fallen comrades, and a multitude of hash marks on one shoulder showing the enemies he killed. I took note of his left hand, or lack there of. In its place was a pair of hooks he could use to grip things, likely spaced enough to hold steady a gun barrel. He had a strong jaw, and a thick blond beard. His hair was the same shade and cut very short, in a classic military style. His nose was thin and at one time was straight, but now lumpy with old breaks. His eyes were a slate grey, and had that cool gaze that peered right through you, the look of someone self sure and competent. When he opened his mouth and spoke, I heard his Gorasni accent. I knew immediately this would be an interesting interview indeed.

"You the man looking for war storys?" he asked me, tilting his head up. I nodded.

"Yes, I am looking to hear the storys of as many soldiers of The Locust War as I can. My name is Alexander Jamieson." I held out my hand. He didn't take it, he only crossed his arms.

"Vladimir Kretchankov. Tell me Mr. Jamieson, where did you fight?" he narrowed his eyes. I had a feeling this would go this way when he walked through the door. I recited the information he _really _wanted to know, one old soldier to another.

"Lieutenant Alexander Jamieson, Coalition of Ordered Governments Heavy Weapons Specialist, Squad Zeta Two. Fought at Tyrus Faults, Anvil Gate, Halvo Bay, and Montevado to name a few" I answered. The Gorasni broke into a big grin.

"Good! Now thats more like it," he said, briskly shaking my hand, "If you were one of those Stranded mother fuckers I was going to knock your face off." He laughed.

I nodded, and smiled. Gorasni had more reason to hate Stranded then most, and that was not a fight I was going to pick.

"Sargent Vladimir Kretchankov, Union of Independant Republic Sniper. One of the last _true_ citizens of Gorasnaya. I fought in more places then I can count," he replied, " So, why is a soldier like you looking for war storys from men like me, you don't have enough of your own?" he asked, half sarcastically.

"I'm recording them for future generations, so that they can know how we won the war," I answered, "and why we fought so hard,"

"Are you now? " he more said then said then asked, then he shrugged "Alright, I'm game. What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you feel like telling me. What do _you _want people to know?" I replied. He scratched his chin with his remaining hand. It took him a few minutes to think.I could almost see him relive his every battle.

"Well, why don't we start at the beginning, Emergence Day."


	2. Chapter 2: The Fall of Gorasnaya: Part 1

_(Author's Note:I ment to end include this in the first chapter. I'm not going in any particular order with each battle. I figured the interviews woulden't come in cronological order in reality, so I'm not going to do so. Its a bit more realistic, and creatively speaking, a bit more free to have some fun with this.)_

I remember Emergence Day. I remember it like it was yesterday. I think anyone who was alive then does. I was in Chalitz at the time, at The Union Military Outpost.

That city was breathtaking before the Grubs got to it, and the Stranded ruined it even more. We prided ourselves on how unique our city looked. The skyscrapers were towering and made of stone reinforced with iron. Meny were topped with colourfully onion domes, while others were sheered off on diagonally. Our cathedrals shown in the sun, sparkling silver and gold, with stained glass windows as tall as homes themselves. The streets were paved with multicolored cobblestones, that when viewed from the sky created designs in the street. Most famous was the Pom De Diata, or Tree of Life. It began from our Parliament Building in the citys center, it being our city's roots. It stretched out along that main road leading to it, creating the trunk. The seven adjoining streets made the limbs, each veering off in a perfect forty five degree angle. At the conclusion of each street was a skyscraper, each named for an important figure in Gorasnaya's history. They represented the buds; creation, birth and rebirth. My favorite was St. Dägolhov's church tower, a massive building painted like it was made of stained glass. It depicted the creation of mankind by god on all four sides, and was topped with a massive bronze bell that rang on every hour.

Everyone was on edge that day. Our base was a few blocks from Parliament, so we got all the war news first.

We were still at war. The rest of the Union of Independent Republic's factions had surrendered to the Coalition. Not Gorasnaya. They bombed _us_ with the Lightmass Bomb. They stole the Hammer of Dawn from _us_. The others may have flipped onto their stomics and surrendered like a hurt dog, but not us. We had a score to settle. The COG may have thought the Pendulum Wars were over. For us, they were just beginning.

I met with the other men of my squad in the Command center, fully dressed in my heavy green and yellow armor. We never knew what we would be doing from day to day. Sometimes we would be sent on secret missions to COG bases to sabotage them or plant explosives, other times we twiddled our thumbs all day.

My squad, Cobra Squad, was small that day. Originally, there were five of us, but only three remained, myself included, after a small fight with the COG the week before. One was our Commanding Officer, Colonel Sartroffski. He was a thin man with balding black hair and a well groomed moustache. He was stern, but a good leader none the less. The other was Private Kerin Brötlovich. He and I grew up together, and were the best of friends. He was a six foot-eight inch behemoth, with big bald head. His round face was always smiling out of mischief, like he knew something you didn't and it was very funny to him.

Sartroffski started telling us about what our day would be, wich put in one word was slow. We would be on guard duty of Parliament. We were always expecting the COG to infiltrate or attack us, and wanted to be ready when it came to that.

He was in the middle of giving orders when the ground first started to shake. It was small at first, and unsettling. We assumed it was an earthquake. Then it happend again, this time more violent, throwing things off of tables and shelves. I remember my feet buckled with the second.

It was followed by an ear shattering explosion that rocked the whole building.

"This is no earthquake! Its an attack!" Sartroffski shouted. He started hurrying to the door. "Men! On me!"

We immediately pulled our guns off our back, and clicked off the safety. I carryed a Markza Sniper Rifle. I preferred it to the COG Longshot. The Markza had a ten round clip to the Longshot's single bullet. Although not as powerful, it was more reliable. I also carryed a snub pistol for emergency situations. It was my last resort, and with such low stopping power I only used it if every resource was dry.

Brötlovich carryed a double action shotgun, the Gnasher. He also had big, green, Booshka grenade launcher on his back. Sartroffski had a shotgun as well, but carried a Lancer in his hands.

This was the Lancer Mk1. Remember that. This was_ before_ they modified it to fight the Locust. It had a knife under the barrel instead of a chainsaw. It was more powerful, but the recoil was murder.

I remember as we ran outside, I thought it was the COG finally attacking us. Why would I think otherwise?I was ready for a fight. Not as ready as I wish I was.

I immediately smelled the smoke in the air, and I could hear far off shouts. This looked wrong however, not like the COG. Down the street, some fifty feet, there was a giant hole in the road. It did not look like a shell crater, it looked too deep, and there were no scorch marks.

Then I saw a clawed, white, hand reach up from it. It grabbed the surface, and the creature pulled itself up.

I had never seen anything like it before. It was nearly seven feet tall, with white scaly, skin. Its horrific face had a wide mouth full of sharp teeth, with beady eyes, and no nose to speak of. It was human shaped, with arms and legs like us, but it was thicker. Stronger looking. It wore a heavy brown breastplate accented with red lights, and thick leg armor. It had a strange gun in its hands, a short barreled rifle with a curved clip and no stock.

Antother came out of the hole behind it, and another, and another. Before I knew what happened, there were seven of them at the edge of the hole. Some wore helmets or goggles, others were shirtless with only a bandolier across there chest.

I was shocked. What the hell were they? Thay weren't human, that was sure, and the COG wore blue, not red and brown. I did not know it, but that was the first time I saw The Locust.

I stopped cairing when the first one I saw aimed that short barreled gun at me, and fired, stalking forward. I dove and scrambled for cover, the bullets whizzing past my head. I scampered behind a parked car. I saw Sartroffski and Brötlovich run for the ally across the street, a hail of rounds blowing fist sized holes in the brick buildings near by.

"What kind of gun could do that?" I remember thinking. I aimed up from behind the car, and found the first creature through the Markza's yellow tinted scope. I shot twice at its head while it stomped forward. The first shot hit its neck, the next its chest, just above the armor. I saw it stumble side ways, leaking dark red from both wounds, but it quickly regained its footing. It aimed its gun at me, and fired.

I ducked behind the car as rounds battered into it. How was that thing still standing? A man would be dead, or at least mortally wounded from two shots like that.

I heard Brötlovich's shotgun boom twice across the street, followed by the drone of Sartroffski's Lancer. I popped back up, a pair of orange tracers wizzing past my head, aimed at my wounded enemy, and poped off two more rounds. This time I hit its eye and it dropped.

They could be killed, that was a start. I saw a second fall beneath a chunking barrage of Lancer rounds, and a third fall two its knees with a stomic full of buckshot.

I aimed and shot again, my rounds plinking off the breastplate of another enemy, the force knocking him down. I ducked as another volly of rounds blasted the car, ricocheting off in every direction.

I reloaded and returned fire, hitting another in the arm and a second in the head. I could see the hole behind them, I counted at least ten around it and more coming up behind those.

"Fall back!" I heard Sartroffski yell. I glanced over and saw him motioning with his hand to an ally on my side of the street. I nodded.

"Covering fire!" I shouted. I rose up and looked down my scope.

_Bam bam bam bam bam. _I fired into the crowd ahead as orange rounds turned my cover into swiss cheese. I couldn't tell if I hit anything or not, but I saw Sartroffski scramble across the road, a trail of bullets at his heels. He dove for the ally, and backed agenst it, leaned out and let loose a stream of Lancer rounds. Brötlovich ran next, firing his shot gun in one hand as he did.

Once he made it to the ally, I backed up, both men covering me. Once in the ally, we ran down it.

"What's the plan Colonel?" I asked as we did.

"Same as a COG siege, closest squads report to the Parliament and any other important buildings, and defend them," he replied. "We're..." he began as he rounded a corner.

_Bam_. Sartroffski flew off his feet and into the wall with a scream.

"Die Groundwalker," I heard a gutteral voice snarl, and the chuck chuck of a pumping shotgun. The big, shirtless monster came around the corner and Brötlovich fired in turn, blasting it into oblivion. I looked down at Sartroffski.

Half of his torso was gone, the other half mangled. He was beyond dead, from a shotgun blast.

We did not have time to mourn, not with some kind of assault raging in our city. Brötlovich on point, we turned the corner, and rushed down the ally. It was that point I relised that monster back there was using a shotgun. A Gnasher Shotgun. A Human shotgun. I didn't know at the time the Locust had been watching us for years, had been stealing and backwards engineering our technology. I should have known right then and there.

The next street was in ruin. Ahead I could see bodys of civilians laying sprawled in all directions, dead in the surprise attack. Some of the stores and homes were on fire, as were the cars crashed in the middle of the street.

Almost right away, a hail of gun fire blew past our heads from up ahead. Myself and Brötlovich rushed behind a broken car, with him firing first. I heard a deep yell of one of the enemy, and I popped up next. I found one of them takeing cover in the door way of a tenement building. I lit him up.

My first shot hit his gun, flinging it from his hand. The second his groin. He fell to his knees, and I hit his face.

Suddenly, an explosion erupted in a store across the street. The top floor blew apart, sending deadly stone and shards of glass flying through the air. I covered my face as dust showered down on me. I peaked up through my scope.

Up ahead was the first Boomer I ever saw. He was big, over eight feet tall. He was broad, with a pot belly and a big, thick head. He was covered in armor, almost head to toe, except its ugly, craggy, face. It carried a big, pump action grenade launcher with a drum clip, that it was currently reloading.

This was my opportunity. I put its ugly face in my sights, and fired.

My shot it with a sprey of blood, but that basterd kept right on stomping forward, unfazed by the grievous wound, except now it turned to me. It pumped its launcher.

"Boom!" It uttered with a deep voice.

I ducked as a cluster of five rockets shot over head. Some blasted into the street behind me, shooting cobblestones and dirt skyword, while others hit a metal street lamp. The iron groaned and cracked as it leaned, snapping at the middle and smashing onto a parked car.

I stood up and franticly emptyed my clip into it, trying to down it before it could finish relodeing. I quickly ramed my next clip into my gun locked it into place.

I saw Brötlovich stand up next to me, his Booshka in his hands.

_Thomp_. The grenade canister shot out and bounced forward, landing in front of the the Boomer's feet.

"Boom that you son of a bitch," Brötlovich muttered just before his grenade exploded. The Boomer disappeared in a fiery exposion. With that street clear, we moved up.

We quickly reached The Parliament Building. It was a massive red brick building with six stories. It was topped with a yellow and green onion dome, the colours of they UIR.

The courtyard and street in front were littered with the dead. Some were our soldiers, others were our new foe. Most were civilians; men in suits, women in long skirts, some still with terror etched on their faces. Two UIR troopers stood outside Parliament's double doors, Lancers in hand.

"Get inside," one of them shouted, "They need all the help they can get in there! Our spotters say there's a whole groups of those things coming this way!"

We did as we were told. We had no clue the danger we were about to put ourselves in.


	3. Chapter 3: Fall of Gorasnaya Part 2

Brötlovich and I quickly entered The Parliament Hall at the bequest of our comrades. The grand entry way was a massive round chamber. The floors were travertine, and grand columns held up the rounded ceiling. The ceiling itself was painted with a fresco of the founding of Gorasnaya. The stunning visage of Mikhail The Conqueror stood with his flag held high, at the summit of Mt. Dargahst, looking down apon the icy forest that would soon become our country.

This hall was being made into a makeshift military base. At least fourty soldiers were in this room. Some milled about, others checked over gear and weaponry. Near the back, behind the registration desk, was a thrown together med station. Wounded soldiers and civilians alike layed on old blankets and torn up clothing. Most had grievous wounds; large bullet holes, severe burns, some were missing limbs or appendages. I could hear their moans of pain echoing across the room.

The soldiers were moving peices of furniture from other rooms into here, creating a makeshift barricade at the door. Tables were flipped onto their sides as cover, and troopers waited by windows for fighting to begin.

"I don't like this," Brötlovich muttered, "what the hell are these things? Their not COG, there not even Human! I shot that big bastard in the chest full blast, every piece of shot hit him, and he just kept walking!"

"I don't know," I said, "They came up out of a hole in the ground. I'v never seen anything like it."

We were interrupted. A short, stocky man wearing a full breather helmet stood infront of us. Across the forhead of his green helm were four yellow stars, and a great deal of medals were painted onto his brestplate.

"Name and rank soldiers!" He commanded.

"Buck Private Vladimir Kretchankov. Cobra Squad, Sir!" I shouted, standing at attention. I always was sure to do that. Not showing the respect diserved to an officer was punishable by a severe beating or worse in Gorasnaya. Harsh perhaps, but nothing compared to the horrors of war.

"Private Kerin Brötlovich. Cobra Squad, Sir."

"Where is the rest of your squad, trooper," he demanded.

"KIA sir," I answered, "Colonel Sartroffski is dead, we did not have time to recover his tags. We ran here as quickly as we can!"

"You did the right thing. Most of our Prolocutors, our Senators, and Representatives are in the Council Hall. We must protect them from whatever is going on. I am General Sergei Malgov, and I am in charge here. You will do as I say, when I say it. Is that clear?"

"Sir yes sir!" We both answered. I had heard of Sergei Malgov before. He was a hero of the Pendulum Wars, and had turned the tide of many battles agenst the COG. He was one of the finest soldiers to ever live.

Suddenly, a raido started somewhere by the med station. Apparently some trooper had been tinkering with it, and finally found a working channel.

"... Are panicking in the streets. We have heard almost no statements from Coalition command about what this is, or what they want. All attempts at diplomatic relations have ended in violence. Reports are comming in from nearly every city across all of Sera of full scale in invasions." The panicked news casters voice was drowned out by an explosion momentarily, "attempts at communicating with other nations have failed because it seems they are cutting off radio transmissions as they go. Scientists have already dubbed them The Locust, because sudden devastation of this magnitude has not been seen since the plagues of the old days swept the planet. Our... no, wait! Stop!" He started shouting

"Die, Hominid" called another voice. Screams and gunfire followed, enough to chill the blood. The raido died into static.

"Sir! Their here! I can see them!" one of the troopers by the window shouted.

"Alright men!" Malgov yelled, "You all know the drill! Snipers and spotters to floor five and six. You are our first line of defence so if there is ever a time to make your shots count, this is it. Gunners and heavy weapons to floor three and four. We have set up stationary chainguns and left Booshka's up there for you. Auxiliary, engineers, and any comanders ranking above Colonel, you will protect the council chambers on floor two. They are more important then any of us, and you will keep them alive or I will kill you myself! Everyone else will hold this floor! Stop them from entering at all costs. Should we be breached I want every single one of you maggots in the council chamber on the double! Are we clear!"

"Sir yes, sir!" we all answered in unison.

"Then get fucking to it!"

I did as I was told. Markza in hand, I ran up the stairs, making my way to the sixth floor. I took the first door on my right.

It was someones office. There were bookshelves agenst one wall, and a big, oak desk with a chair on the other. It had two windows facing the square, with fileing cabinets beneath them. I grabbed the boxy storage, and pushed it aside, then took the butt of my gun and smashed out the glass. I cleared it on all sides, and perched myself there. I looked down my scope.

Chalitz's skyline was in full view, and not the beautiful sight I was accustomed to. Smoke rose from far away fires, and orange flames licked the rooftops of homes. I could see some buildings with crumbling holes blown in them, others were gone altogether. One of our cathedrals was lit a flame, and its bell tower was shattered down through the roof itself, leaving a huge hole in the House of God. Far away however, the St. Dägolhov's Church Tower still stood, glowing defiantly in the noon day sun.

The street below was clogged with abandoned cars, obscuring the Pom De Diata almost totally. In between the cars lay even more bodys, civilians killed as they abandoned their vehicles to try and escape.

Then I saw the first of the Locust assault. They were indeed coming. The Drones flooded up the road and out of side streets in mass. I didn't bother counting how many there were; there were well over fifty, I could estimate that.

The Chainguns opened fire in a defining roar, and Booshka grenades sailed over head. I took aim at the first Locust I saw, running with his Hammerburst Assault Rifle. I fired three times, all shots hitting him, knocking him down. I looked to another, this one kneeling behind a car, shooting at the ground floor. This one only took two shots, first taking his goggle helm, the second the top of his head.

I found another, this one running up a sidewalk on the left. This one had on thick sholder guards with bright red lights, and a heavy looking mohawk shaped helmet with a breather mask. I fired at him on the run, hitting his stomach with two of my shots. He stumbled to a stop and whipped around, leveling the biggest revolver I had ever seen at my window. I ducked as he fired, blowing the windowsill next to my head to splinters with with a few shots, and a big chunk out of the brick with a couple more. I returned fire, shooting the gap between his chest armor and helmet. The monster fell into a seated position, and I shot him once more for good measure. I took aim at another behind a car, and fired off my last shot.

I quickly reloaded my Markza, and once done, rejoined the fight. The Chainguns were mowing down everything they could along with shots from the other soldiers. The Locust kept coming anyway. For every one we killed it was as if their were two more right behind it, flinging a swarm of bullets at us.

I aimed my rifle, finding this time another type of Locust. It was the same hight as the Drones I first saw, but its armor was much different, looking something like a metal and leather coat with straps hanging off the back at the waist. It had a wide, open coller at the top that raised in two points up near its head. It had a round helmet that covered the top half of its face, leaving its mouth open. He carried a weapon that looked like a crossbow with blades on the forward limbs, that was aimed vertically instead of horizontally. He was waving his clawed hands around and he looked like he was talking, so I figured he was important. I didn't know it was a Theron Guard, one of the Locust elite, and it was carrying a Torque Bow.

I popped off a a few shots, at least two hitting his side. I saw him run into cover, and aim his bow at my window. The mouth of the weapon glowed bright yellow and he fired after a few seconds. I head a loud metal _thunk_ as it hit into the roof somewhere above me. I almost laughed. Trying to kill a heavily armed soldier with such an archaic weapon. I stopped laughing in a second.

_Boom_. The whole room shook as part of the roof above my window exploded, showing bricks and dust down on me. A beam slammed down onto the floor next to me and my ears started to ring. I aimed at him anyway, ignoring the thundering in my head. The Theron was loading another exploding arrow into its bow, its helmet facing my window. I panicked, not wanting to take my chances, and I fired my entire clip at him. I saw at least one shot hit his head, passing through the helmet in a bloody shower. That was when I realised the Tourqe Bow had to be charged before fireing. His claw had only been on the trigger not even a second when he fell over dead. This arrow shot out of the bow, arking and bouncing harmlessly out of range, and blowing up near a broken car.

I reloaded my weapon, and readied again. The whole ground shook violently, knocking me off balance. From the middle of the stone street first burst a set of five gigantic insectoid legs, sending a pair of cars flying into the air. They looked almost like they were made of rock, and they had the same metal armor the Locust wore on them. They skittered, and a giant ten foot tall, spider like-creture pulled itself out of the hole. Its front five legs protected a grotesque head that was fitted with a gigantic helmet. I could see a multitude of yellow-glassed eye holes on it, and its alian mouth was open, displaying its jagged saw like teeth. The back of its body was almost centipede like, with groupings of more, smaller legs, as well as at least four more of the big ones.

I had never seen anything alive that big before, and my mouth literally hung open. Every Chaingun and Booshka focused on it, and I started firing my Markza. Every bullet ricocheted off its legs as it hunkered up, the Booshkas not even able to harm it. With an ear piercing screem, it raised up its legs and dropped back down the tunnel.

I thought for a second, we had chased it off, mabe we had scared it or something. I coulden't have been more wrong.

From out of the hole first climbed four of the big, eight foot tall Locust, the Boomers. These had Boomshot grenade launchers like the one I met. As soon as their feet touched the ground they started firing. The building shook as the rockets hit. They were aiming at the third and fourth floor, at the Chainguns. A storm of bullets shot back at them, mine included, but more were coming. Two more Boomers climbed up, followed by a new kind.

These two where huge like there brothers, with almost the same armor, but with a high coller to protect there throte. Unlike the normal Boomer, this type, later called the Grinder, wore a hat reminiscent of a bucket. Instead of rocket launchers, these carried a giant Gatling Gun, with three barrels. With one hand it held it up via a bar on the top. The other held a crank, that it began to turn like one played an old organ. I saw the barrles begin to spin, their guns pointed at the third and fourth floor, and I started shooting at them.

Both Grinders ignored me, and walked forward. Their guns started to fire.

A withering barrage battered the lower floors. The noise so loud I couldn't even hear myself breath. I kept on shooting, hitting one through the eye socket. He dropped to the ground, but I saw a third climb out of the hole, his Mulcher's barrels already starting to spin. The whole structure buckled again when the Boomers hit the upper floors with there rockets again. I shot one of them instead, three shots in its temple did the job.

Another type of Boomer clambered out of the hole, a groups of four this time. This one was clad completely in heavy armor, including a thick blast shield helmet. It had a backpack filled with fuel on its back, connected via a hose to a flamethrower. I recognized that weapon, it was a COG Scorcher. As they stomped forward, I saw the other Locust Drones start moving up. I realised right then they planned this. The smaller ones had been holding back until the artillery arrived.

The Chain Guns and Booshkas had stopped firing. Now they were focusing on the ground floor. The Flame Boomers moved out ahead, walking up to the windows while rounds bounced and clanked off their armor. I shot too, stumbling one of them with the Markza's heavy slugs.

I saw one of the Grinders turn my way, and point his gun up at me.

"Aw shit," I thought for just a second. I dove backwords as a storm of rounds shot into my window, shredding the opening and the bricks like it was paper. I laid down and covered my head, while more rounds blasted into the room, tearing apart the shelves and desk, shattering glass from the second window and blowing paper all over me while it tore the fileing cabinet open like a tin can.

Another shaking boom rippled into the building.

"They've breached the doors!" I screamed at myself, and I started crawling for the door. I had to get down stairs, and help.

The Mulcher fire stopped abruptly, and for a second I thought they were done with me.

_Wooooosh_. I heard the Boomshot round coming before I saw it. I fliped onto my back as it shot through what remained of the wall, all five rockets hitting the ceiling above me.

_Boooom. _My hearing left me, and I covered my face. Between my fingers I say the wood and plaster ceiling, falling to meet me. Everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4: The Fall of Gorasnaya Part 3

My head ached and I felt like the floor was spinning. I opened my eyes, and saw the broken ceiling above me, or where it used to be. I could see the blue sky, slowly filling with smoke through the gaping hole. I looked around the destroyed room. Wood and bricks lay thrown about the room, shattered, splintered and scorched. I was covered in stone dust and destroyed pieces of wood. I couldn't really complain though, to my left there was a big beam smashed through the floor, only inches from my head.

I knocked the rubble off myself, and stood up. Other then a growing migraine, I was ok. I looked around, and shoved aside some of the rubble, looking for my Markza. I had to get my gun, and get down stairs. I did not know how long I was out, I had to hurry.

I saw the lime green stock of the gun, beneath a pile of wood, and pushed it all aside. There was the gun, but it was snapped in half at the barrel. I grimaced. I was down to my side arm. It took multiple shots with the high powered Markza to down those things, let alone the Snub Pistol. It was a light handgun, not ment for anyone with any armor, let alone what we were all fighting now. I didn't know if it would do anything to the Grubs.

Still, I pulled it from the holster, and made sure it was fully loaded. I moved out into the hall, and headed to the stairs.

They were gone. The entire stairwell was collapsed, the stairs laying at the bottom, beneath a pile of burning rubble. The wall next to it was blown inwords, and the roof collapsed down on top of every thing. There was no way I was getting through there.

I turned about and started down the hallway, heading for the other staires. I could hear gunfire echoing downstairs. I had to hurry. I heard footsteps clunking up the stairs down the hall. I ducked into a near by office, my pistol in hand.

This one was destroyed just like mine. Mulcher rounds had torn apart the walls and windows. The roof was caved in here too, and I could see a green-gauntleted hand sticking out of a pile of bricks. I backed up agenst the wall next to the door, and waited silently.

I could hear the clunking footsteps approaching, and heavy, growling breath. That wasn't a human, that certain.

Closer the steps, came, then stopped. I didn't dare peek out, because I could here the Locust breathing in the doorway. I was almost sure it the was the only one up here. Mabe I could take it down, if I was clever enough.

I heard it shift, and start stomping. I glanced around the corner. It had its back to me, its big scaily head on a swivel as it walked away. I cairfully aimed my snub at the back of his head, and squeezed the trigger.

_Crack crack crack._ All three rounds hit his head and he stumbled forward with a pained growl. It whipped around , and I shot it again, this time hitting it in its maw of teeth. It returned fire anyway, and I dove aside as a burst of orange bullets traced where I had just been. Now on the other side of the doorway, I heard the Locust Drone rushing in to finish me off.

As he came thrugh the door, I shot point blank at him. Somehow I missed, shooting right passed his face and he swong his Hammerburst at me. I jumped back, but his hit cought my pistol, knocking it out of my hand. I kicked at it with my foot, also hitting his gun, knocking it out wide. It clattered somewhere near the pile of debris. It growled angrily, and swong its heavy fist at me in a right hook. I manged to duck it, and I bull-rushed forward, grabbing it around the waist in an attempt knock it down.

It wasn't as easy as I had hoped. It grabbed me under the armpit, stopping my momentum altogether. Then came its knee. It hit me in the stomach so hard I almost passed out, sending shooting pain throughout my body like lightning.

My breckfest came up in my throat and out of my mouth, all over the Locust's legs. His fist hit me next, it tossed me across the room by the shoulders. I hit the floor, hard. My vision was blurred, and I barely hung onto my consciousness. The taist of my own vomit burned my mouth, and I spit out whatever was left. I looked back at the Locust.

I could only just see him through my foggy vision. He stalked forward, a wickid grin on his bullet-destroyed face. I crawled away as he walked, my hand finding something smooth and metallic. I scrabbled for it.

It was the Locust's gun. I grabbed it and quickly found the trigger with my fingers, and I flipped over aiming the alien gun at its owner.

I saw him put his hands in front of his face, in realization, and I fired. With one pull it fired a burst of six shots, all of them hitting him in the chest. He fell backwords, finially dead. The rounds had burned right through its armor.

I shook my head, my eyes clearing. My face was red hot, and I could the left side of my jaw beginning to swell already. At was pretty sure nothing was broken at least, so that was something.

I looked down at the gun in my hands. It was odd to me, for an assault rifle. It had a short barrel, no stock, no iron sites, and was very compact. A long, curved clip jutted out right before the trigger, and I could see no safety mechanism what so ever. I took note of the small medieval looking cross on the barrel. I noticed it on the Locust armor too; I figured it was some sort of military symbol.

I found out later there were different variants of the Hammerburst Rifle; a single shot version, a fully automatic version, and one that burst fired. This was the burst fire. I preferred this one. Although stockless, it had nearly no recoil, and was deadly accurate with all six rounds. Why the Grubs stopped using that gun I'll never know, because I never did. Hell, I still have one at home.

I tore the Drone's ammo belt off his waist, and threw it over my shoulder. I walked out into the hall, and heard more footsteps clunking up the stairs, these in a hurry.

As soon as the big, shirtless, Locust came into view, I lit him up, my first burst throwing him into the wall. The second finished him off. I waited, but no more came. Perhaps they figured since all they heard was there own gun, it was their men firing. I advanced and went down the stairs, two flights. I peaked into the hall. My suspicions were confermed.

This place was filled with rubble and blood. The Boomshots had destroyed the entire hall, and the soldiers with it. Chainguns lay in mangled heaps, and my former comrades were dead in all directions. I dare not look to see if Brötlovich was among the dead. Part of me didn't want to know. Based on the crimson leaking across the floor, most of the men from this floor never made it down stairs.

I heard more gunfire, and yelling. I ran down the next couple of floors, stopping at the second. The adjoining hall had once been very ornate. As the entrance to the Parliament hall, it showed a great deal of Gorasnaya's history. Fine oil paintings depicted great battles of the past, and plaster busts showed the faces of our country's glorious leaders. Statues were carved in the visage of famous genrals and majors, posed like the heros of old that they were.

Now, it was destroyed. The walls were charred black, and the paintings were burned and melted beyond recognition. Busts had been shot off their pedestals, and statues so riddled with bullets, I could hardly tell who they once were. Smoke filled the hall from fires burning along the wall, tinged with the smell of burnt flesh. I could see the blackened bodies of my comrades amongst the flames, no match for the horrific power of the Scorcher. The Locust bodies were piled here as well, at least twenty of them. Most of the Boomers and the Grinders were among them. My countryman may have died, but they gave them a fight before they did.

The big double doors where right ahead, wich led to the Council Chambers. Both were broken, bairly hanging on the hinges, with holes shot through it. I could hear gunfire from within, growing louder. I rushed forward, and burst through the doors.

The Council Chamber was a room of massacre. It had, only a few hours before, been a staple of our government. It was a perfectly round room, filled to the brim with tables and chairs. This was where the debates over where Gorasnaya was headed took place. One of those debates was today, wich ment almost every government official, every high ranking commander, and nearly anyone who made any decision regarding our future as a nation, was in this room.

Their bodies were all over the floor. Even though this place was clouded with smoke, I could see them laying on the floor in big clumps, piled on top of one and other. Some were brutally shot, most however, had been burned by the flame throwers. They were unrecognizable now, melted beyond all hope of salvation. There were at least a hundred scattered around the room. Our governing body was made up of only one hundred and ten. Intermingled with the corpses of this room's defenders, I had never seen genocide on this scale, not even in the worst of battles during The Pendulum Wars.

In the center, on the speaker's stage, were even more bodies piled up. These were a mixture of UIR men and Locust. They all lay on top of and around one and other, where the room's middle became a killing field.

Still, some lurked in this room. I could see through the smoke a pair of Flame Boomers, stomping forward, there weapons spitting fire around the room. Four Drones took cover behind flipped over tables shooting, taking turns cracking off shots across the room.

I couldn't make out who they were, but I could see three wispy figures across the room. I figured if the Grubs were shooting at them, they must be friends.

I took aim at the nearest Flame Boomer with my Hammerburst, cairfully lining my shot with his backpack. Those were Emulsion tanks, and if had to wager a guess, I figured they would be volatile. I thought maybe since they didn't know I was there, I could get the drop on him.

I sent six shot streaming his way, plinking into his fuel tanks. Then another volly, and another.

I saw it, the breach in the tank. Yellow colored air leaked out of the side violently, just like when a propane tank was starting to decompress. The Boomer whipped his head back and forth, and started running, right toward my allies across the room.

**Boom.** Luckily for them, his tanks exploded before he got their. Fire shot up into the ceiling and the force blew over tables and chairs. The floor rumbled and shook. I felt it dip and crack beneath my feet. I knew it wouldn't survive another explosion like that.

I instinctively ducked as a cluster of rounds whized past my head, bairly missing my ear. I dove for cover, behind a scorched desk. Another smattering of rounds splintered the wood in front of me.

I poped up my head. It was a Locust with a Lancer, one of our guns. He used the table in front of him to keep the recoil in check while he peppered my position. I blindly shot back, a few of the burst rounds hitting his armor. I had bigger things to worry about however, quite literally.

The other Boomer was looking at me, and stomping heavily toward me. I could see him pumping the lever on his Scorcher, so he would be ready to fire when he got to me.

I aimed at him instead, and pulled the trigger.

_Click. _My gun was empty. Quickly, I grabbed another clip I took from the Drone upstairs. I had never reloded a Hammerburst before, but it was fairly direct and crude, like most Locust technology. They focussed more on brute force and efficiency then finesse. Flip the switch on the side, the clip pops out, ram a new one in behind it, flip it again, and your ready to go. I managed to catch a look at the bullets it fired. They were big, flat head slugs. I never saw an assault rifle shoot those before.

I came out of cover and fired my gun, pulling the trigger over and over at the big brute. I could see his armor starting to dent in, and bullets starting to pirce it. He was almost on me when I heard his yell.

"Burn!" it shouted. I held my ground and kept shooting. What choice did I have? If I broke cover, the other grub was going to get me, so I figured I was dead either way. He leveled his Scorcher at me, and I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. I waited for the fire, and the pain.

Nothing happened, except a loud clunk. I opened my eyes just bairly.

The Boomer was face first on the floor, a cluster of steaming holes in its back. Standing behind it, was Brötlovich.

He wore a thin lair of ashes across his armor, rivaled by the blood running down his face. His left ear was gone, and pin pricks of shrapnel were sticking from his cheek. He had a sarcastic grin on his face, and his shotgun cocked in his hands.

"Miss me?" he asked with a cough, "Man, you look like shit,"

"You too," I chuckled, "Where's the General?" I looked behind him. The other Grubs were dead.

"He just went out the back door, with a Lieutenant Rikliff," he replied. I nodded.

"Did anyone else make it out?" He shook his head.

"Not as far as we know. They killed everyone..."

The conversation was over with that. I followed him through the burning room, and out a cramped maintenance hall. The exit emptyed into a back ally. Malgov was there, next to a skinny man with with dark hair and thick, soot smudged glasses. His features were soft; he couldn't have been more then eighteen years old. He carried a shotgun in his hands. He wore the light armor of an engineer.

As soon as I walked out, and Malgov saw me, he started screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Where the hell were you soldier? You had your orders to be down stairs when the doors were breached! I should have you court martialed for this!" tbe compact man yelled.

"My room was hit by a rocket and I was knocked unconscious Sir. I came down as soon as I woke up," I explained.

"Maybe you should have stayed and died up there! And..." now his eyes fell to my gun, "your using enemy technology? Thats against every code of war!"

"Frankly sir, they don't seem to cair much for our codes. They just slaughtered most of, if not all of our leadership, and half of them are using our guns!" I shouted back. Our entire governing body was just burned alive, and this was what he was upset about? He had to be joking. I knew what this ment. The chain of command was gone, anyone important eneugh to plan a counteroffensive was literally toast. Gorasnaya had just been conquered in less then a day.

"Who are you to talk back to an officer, who just fought while you were sleeping on the job, Private!" He yelled, pointing his finger into my chest. Brötlovich snorted.

"Fought? You sat back and screemed orders while everyone burned!" the heavy gunner countered, "you didn't fire a shot intill the bastards with the flamethrowers started looking at you!" The big gunner had already taken out the medical supplys he carried, and was wrapping his wounded ear. If there is one thing us Gorasni are good at, its fighting through injury when we had to.

"How dare you!" He whispered. An explosion rocked a street near by. We didn't have time for this, and I certainly wasn't going to deal with this now and get killed.

"Look! We don't have time for this!" I interrupted, "If you want to kill me later, fine, go ahead. Right now, there's an invasion force blowing apart this city, and I'm not going to just stand here and let it happen. What's the emergency course of action if Parliament falls?" I couldn't see his face, but I figured he was probably sneering.

"We regroup at the nearst limb of the Pom De Diata, at wait for further orders. If none come we are to abandon the city," he huffed.

I couldn't imagen Gorasnaya abandoning any of its citys, but until that morning, I couldn't imagine our government being whiped out in one attack, so it was not a normal day.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get moveing," Brötlovich said. That's exactly what we did.

You might not beleave it but things got worse then our Governing Body being slaughtered. I wasn't counting on it at the time, but I wasn't counting on Karn


	5. Chapter 5: The Fall of Gorasnaya Part 4

I'll tell you this; when I heard about Damon Baird and Kilo Squad following the Destruction of Halvo Bay, and I heard about how they disobeyed COG orders just to nuke Karn with a Lightmass Missile, I wasn't like most soldiers. They were happy he was demoted, happy Colonel Ezra Lumis blackballed him from any leadership positions. He had deified orders, so they figured he deserved what he got.

Not me. Damon Baird got a raw deal. Personally, I would have shaken his hand. Granted, his missile plan went FUBAR, but at the end, it forced Karn's hand. As a result, that Grub bastard ended up dead at the end of Lumis' gun barrel. Anyone that thought he deserved being demoted never saw what Karn did to Gorasnaya. He was the worst of The Locust commanders. Do you know why? He was smart. He didn't just go in and blow down a city. He dismantled it, peice by piece. He dismantled Gorasnaya, an empire of over ten million people, in a few weeks. He started with Chalitz.

We made our way toward St.Dägolhov's Church Tower. Rather then take to the streets, we decided to clear out some of the surrounding buildings, make our way there yard by yard so to speak. That was the UIR's gameplan for any invasion, wether it was the COG or something else. It was more about looking for survivors then anything else. One survivor ment it was one more soldier. One more set of hands to hold a gun.

I remember as we past through a small bakery thinking how stupid it was. No one had stayed in their houses when the Locust showed up, they tried to get to "safe zones". Military bases, one of the Seven Towers, a Cathedral or The Parliament building.

They ran out into the streets, hoping to escape, only to get killed by the Grubs. Every street we passed was full of the dead, and the Locust had moved on. I wondered if Malgov gave the order to clear buildings because he knew there wouldn't be anyone inside. Maybe he was too much of a coward to fight. If we did find people, they were already dead, because the Locust would just come in the house.

There was one house I remember. It was about ten blocks from the church tower. We entered through the back door, wich was right in a small ally way. The first room was a kitchen, a tiny modest room with out dated cookwareband a small table in the middle. The flowered wall paper was stained with blood, and there was a body of a women slumped agenst the cabinets. She wore a floral print dress, and her greying blond hair was tied back in a bun. She had a sort of kind face, like that stereotype of a grandmother everyone thinks of. Were it not for the gapeing wound in her chest I may have thought she was just... resting. I passed, with Rikliff, into the next room, wich was a small living aira. There were two bodys here. One a younger man, slumped on the couch, shot in the head. The other was a tad older with his face smashed through a coffie table. He had a dusty boot print on his back, where he was kicked.

The front door was torn off the hinges, and there was a Locust body laying on the front stoop. I turned around, and found a set of stairs. Brötlovich and Malgov watched the downstairs while I went up with Lieutenant Rikliff.

There was a blood trail leading up the steps. It passed down a hall at the top. Rikliff stopped off at the first door, a bedroom, and I followed the trail to the bathroom. The tile was sky blue, with roses on it. The shower curten was splattered with red, and there was an older women sitting huddled in the tub, a double barrel, sawed off shotgun next to her. She had been killed by the Locust while she hid.

I don't know why that home got stuck in my mind. I had seen more brutality that day that out weighed that. I had just left a building filled with my dead comrades and corpses torched so badly they were black and unrecognizable. These people though, I think perhaps they reminded me of my family. My parents and grandparents. Or maybe it was just because they weren't Soldiers or Politicians. They had nothing to do with war or fighting, yet they died anyway, because they happened to be home that day. All I know is I still see a lot of things in my sleep, even now. Its not the burned bodys, its the kind women in the floral dress and her husband with his face through the table.

As I walked down the hall, I saw Rikliff standing in the bed room, looking out the window to the street below. He was absentmindedly cleaning his thick glasses, almost in a trance.

"Lieutenant, you alright?" I asked him, walking in. I figured perhaps he hadn't seen a lot of combat, because he was an engineer. They usually took cair of artillery, tanks, and other machinery, very rarely fighting on the front lines.

"Do you here it?" he asked cryptically. I shook my head.

"No, I don't hear anything," unless he was talking about the distant gunfire. That was happening constantly now though, so it wasn't something new.

"I didn't think you did. Its like a high pitched humming, just bairly audible," he explained emotionless, "Come here,"

I crossed the room, and he pointed out the window, at a telephone pole across the street. It had a big transformer box on it.

"I'm not surprised you can't hear it. I'm around electronics all day, I notice things most people don't. Its coming from the pole out there. Do you know what that means? The power grid is damaged. Here look."

He crossed the room, and flipped the light switch. The ceiling light clicked on, and started to flicker on and off.

"See that? The power's not smooth. Their taking out the Electrical Power Plant."

"Thats no surprise. That's what we do in a siege too," I shrugged. That didn't seem all that abnormal.

"They already eradicated Parliament. Did you feel the explosion right before they came up? I was near that, it was the Water Treatment Plant. Their not trying to take over this city, their crippling it," he said darkly.

He walked out of the room, and down the stairs, saying nothing else. I followed, meeting Brötlovich at the bottem. He had a scowl on his face.

"How's the ear?" I asked.

"I don't know, I left it in the Parliament building," he said with a sarcastic grin.

"Can you hear at least?" I asked.

"Mostly, its not too bad. Hurts like a bitch though," he said. The bandages around it were soaked through, and rather ugly looking.

"Hey Ladies!" Malgov shouted from the kitchen. I grit my teeth. He was really asking for a beating. "Let's get a move on. We're almost to the Tower!"

We moved out into the street for the first time in about an hour. It stank of death and blood. The homes and stores were bullet scarred, and a up the street a grouping of craters tore up he ground. I could see red chunks among them, morter fire I guessed.

We moved along, reaching the morter holes. I stopped and examined the gibs. They were white and scaly, not humans. I had an twinge of grim satisfaction. Our boys were fighting back.

A horse yell tore me from my musings.

"No, wait. I surrender!" a terrified voice yelled. Up ahead, a door of a home slammed open. A thin man in a businesses suit ran out, his arms waveing as he looked back. A big, shirtless Drone ran out after him. He leveled a large revolver, and fired.

The big round hit the mans back, and exploded out his chest in a messy hole. He dropped instantly. I aimed my Hammerburst at the Locust and pulled the trigger. A few of my rounds hit his sholder, and it scrambled back into the door.

"Groundwalkers!" it called out loudly. I rushed to an alley between two homes and backed agenst the wall. I saw Brötlovich and Rikliff do the same across the street, with Malgov ducking into the door way of a home.

A pair of shotgun blasts splattered the door. I heard the Locusts gun answer, and saw the round blow a hole in the siding near Brötlovich. Rikliff's gun sounded this time, and I saw the grub tumble out of the door way, dead.

Orange tracers peppered my wall from down the street. I cought sight of a pair of Locust taking cover behind a pair of parked cars. Then I heard another voice. It was raspy, and it whispered from the house across the street from where we saw the Grub with the revolver.

"Surround them," one said.

"Kill," replied another. There was a third reply, but it was drowned out by Malgov's Lancer chunking bullets at our attackers.

I heard a defining crack, almost like lightning had struck near by. I instinctively recoiled as a chunk of bricks blew from the wall next to me.

I recognized the sound. A Longshot Sniper Rifle. One of the COG's fiercest weapons, the single shot rifle made up for its lack of ammo with its unbelievable stopping power. A single bullet from that would turn a mans head to jelly. Apparently the Locust had it too.

The door across the street flew open, and three Theron Guards charged out, their sinister coat-like armor looking even more intimidating up close. These, unlike the first I saw, carried a crude bladed weapon. It was like a giant sword, forged of heavy steel. It was half as tall as its weilder, and stained with dried blood.

I would find out later these were Cleavers carried mostly by Butcher Boomers. However, Karn employed them among Therons in the early part of the war. We nicknamed them Slaughter Squads, because of their signature battle cry. They rushed forward, two of them straight at my comrads, rounds plinking off there armor. The other veered off, at me.

"Slaughter," I heard him whisper as he came at me. I fired at it, hitting its stomic with the full burst, bairly even stumbling it. I was about to fire again when another deafining crack tore the air, blowing just over by sholder. I lept back, then quickly ducked as the big blade sailed overhead.

I jogged back shooting at it again, but it juked out of the way and swong low at my legs. I stumbled back out of the way, falling onto my ass. It brought its cleaver over its head and smashed down at me. I scurryed backwords, unable to roll in the tight alley. The blade smashed in between my legs, missing my groin by a hair. I lept to my feet, and ducked again. The blade swept over, slashing into the bricks next to me.

"Die, sapien!" the Theron hissed. Behind it, I saw two more rush down the road through a blaze of my allie's gunfire. It came back across, hitting the other wall. I took the time to let off another group of shots point blank range. They shredded through its coat and into its chest. It stumbled back, dropping the cleaver, and I blasted it again in the head, for good measure.

I reloaded as it fell, and rushed back up the ally. I saw two dead Cleaver Therons on the ground. Malgov was still fighting one. He knocked the big blade out of the way with his bayonet, and thrust at its stomic. The knife hit the armor and broke off with a clink. He recoiled in fear, and the Locust raised its blade.

I took aim and fired, blowing a cluster of holes in its back. It slumped forward, landing on Malgov with a hiss of pain. I saw another Theron go flying out of the other ally on the end of a shotgun blast. I was about to look for the Locust down the street when another thunderous crack echoed from around us. This one blew the cobble stones out of the road at my feet.

That sniper needed to die. I knew it had to reload the big rifle, wich gave me time to find it. I glanced around the corner, and up the street. As a sniper by trade, my eyes were keen. I found him almost right away. It was a big, musculer Drone wairing a pair of goggles, up on a roof down the lane. I saw him pulling the bolt on the gun, and aimed at him.

He saw me too. He turned around, and started running. I tracked him with the gun, and fired.

Blood burst from the back of his legs, and he stumbled, sliding off the roof. It landed with a splat in the street.

I glanced over at the opposite alley. Brölovich and Rikliff were back in view, and smeared with blood that was not theirs. I looked back down the street. The pair of Grubs harassing us were gone.

Suddenly, just when I thought I could rest, the ground shook. A massive explosion blasted through the city from the west, forming a huge yellow mushroom cloud on the horizon, sending a shockwave so powerfull it almost knocked me down. Smaller explosions rocked us next, blowing up one after another, shooting black and yellow smoke into the distant air. They followed one street, before rumbling to a stop, leaving black, ash filled clouds in their wake.

I knew what that was when I saw it, and my blood ran cold. It was our city's Emulsion Pipeline. It fueled the whole city, and had one of the largest stores of Emulsion in the world. Now it was just burning into the sky.

I couldn't help but think of what Rikliff said to me. They were trying to cripple us. Taking our fuel reserves was the fastest way to do it.


	6. Chapter 6: The Fall of Gorasnaya Part5

The Locust War Fall Of Gorasnaya Part 5

I can see the parallels between Gorasnaya and The Locust. Most can't, but I can. Both of us come from harsh environments. The Grubs lived underground, surrounded by the carnivorous creatures of the Hollow. Puddles of burning Emulsion dripped through the rock ceilings, and the scarce food would fight back viciously.

Gorasnaya was cold in the winter, beyond cold. Temperatures could easyly drop twenty, thirty, even forty below zero during the day. Night was so frigid you could get frostbite walking down the street to buy cigarettes.

The Grubs adapted, just like we did. They subjugated the creatures of the Hollow, and dug networks of tunnels beneath our feet. We built homes and funnelled Emulsion right into them via our huge pipelines that ran across our Country.

As much as I hate to say it, our leadership styles were not that much different. The Grubs didn't cair about their footsoldiers. They were bred to kill Humans. Locust hierarchy like Karn would throw away a hundred Drones if it ment killing one Human. Every death was a victory for them.

Do you know why there are only four thousand true Gorasni left? You can blame The Locust and The Stranded; granted, without them, there would be more of us. It was men like Malgov that got us killed.

Gorasni military was not a kind place. Commanders like Malgov were totalitarian. There word was God. If they told you to do something, you did it. If you didn't you were court martialed, wich was a nice word for shot in our country. At least in COG lands there was an actual trial. It didn't matter what the circumstances of your failure were. It was better for you to get killed then fail.

Malgov should have been born a Locust. He didn't cair about his men. He would toss away every man under his command to hold or take one position. I once heard a story of a soldier with his leg blown off by a morter. He had the stump bandaged, and was laying in a hospital bed. It is said Malgov walked into the hospital and threatened the man with execution if he did not fight. When the man told him he had no leg, he told him to get a crutch, get a gun, and get to the lines. I had thought it was only a story until I met Malgov. After his display at The Parliament building, giving me a dressing down while our city was being conquered, I could beleave it.

It took us intill the evening hours to reach St. Dägolhov's Church Tower. We ran into small squads of Locust on the way, but nothing we couldn't handle. I couldn't help but think about what Rikliff said, about the Locust crippling our city.

We weren't running into Boomers anymore, nor Therons. They were tiny groups of Drones. Mabe one or two. They looked like they were on patrol, not attacking anything.

I remember Malgov said at one point that we must have been winning, because we weren't seeing the enemy. We weren't. One look the yellow and black smoke tinting the sky you could tell that. One ear full of the distant gun fire and explosions let you know there was still fighting. It just wasn't here.

They were taking down the important places first. Places we needed. They weren't worried about the little streets, the one or two troops here and there. They could slaughter them later.

The Church Tower's courtyard was an absolute mess. The bodies of UIR soldiers and Locust Drones were spread around in front door. Makeshift barricades were built near by, giving cover to its defenders. Smoking, warped chain guns lay broken on the ground, and shallow craters pockmarked the cobblestone ground.

A small garden to the towers left side was torn apart. One of the trees planted there was shattered in half, and laying on top of a small fountain. Another was sheared off near the top, part leaning precariously agenst the outer wall.

I could practically feel the cross hairs on my head as I walked up. The tower's grand stained glass windows were broken in some places, revealing gun barrels through the holes.

"Its alright, their ours!" someone inside shouted. There was a delay for almost a full minute, and I could hear sounds like someone moving furniture inside. Then, the big doors swong open. Two men in UIR armor appeared, and motioned with their hands to come inside. Thats exactly what we did.

The ground floor was normally a chaple. Pews would have been on both sides of the room, with a red carpet in between. This carpet would lead up to a large alter, with a giant golden cross hanging on the wall behind it. Below that was a big pipe organ, that would blast songs of religious fervor so loud they echoed through out the eastern sections of the city.

Two grand staircases led up to another floor. From their, you could find even more stairs, that led up floor by floor, until it reached the bell tower ninety stories up.

All the pews were piled near the front wall, where they had been blocking the door up untill we arrived. There were about a hundred or so soldiers here in this room, and I found out later there were twenty or thirty more on the upper floors. There were civilians here too, men and women both. They held Lancers and Snub pistols, and I even spotted a shot gun or two. I guessed they were given excess weapons by the troops for self defence, should the Locust break in. It was wise.

As we walked in, the men began re-piling the pews. Malgov stepped up in front of us, taking command of the situation.

"Alright Ladies, wich one of you is in charge here?" he asked loudly.

"Me, Sir," said a tall man with a bushy, red beard near the room's center, "Corporal Gärtropov, sir."

"Have there been any orders coming through on any emergency channels?" he demanded.

"No," replied the Corporal, "Every COM channel is static sir."

"Thats what I thought," he grunted, "Congratulations Trooper, you've officially been releaved of command."

Malgov stepped up to the crowd. The soldiers and civilians all turned to listen to him.

"In case you haven't all heard, Parliament has fallen," this announcement was met with gasps and shocked voices. "Can it!" Malgov shouted to quiet them, "As a result I am implementing Assault Protocol Twenty Five. We will hole up here, and will defend this building until reinforcements arrive."

"What if they never come, Sir," one trooper from the crowd questioned.

"Then we're going to be holding this position for a very long time," he growled back, "You have all done an excellent job barricading the doors, and from this point onword, that is how they will stay. Should any reinforcements, civilians, or secondary troops arrive, you will be sure that there are none of those... things outside before you take down that barricade."

"Shouldn't we support the other squads around the city? There's fighting every where, I could see it from the windows upstairs," a man near the back asked.

"No! We will stay here and hold this place, as executive orders state!" he shouted in a Drill Sargent like voice, "Our numbers are thin enough as it is, let alone going off chasing fights without further communication with higher command. They may need to use who's left for a counter offensive."

"Sir, if we fill support rolls tonight, a counter offensive may not be needed. If we spread out around fifteen men per squadron, with a force of thirty to hold the tower, we may be able to re-take key positions either before their lost, or before the enemy can regroup after taking them," Rikliff suddenly interrupted.

It was a sound strategy. When the COG raided Mísits on the west coast, the outnumbered soldiers there employed the same tactic. Using the Embassy as a base, and unable to contact UIR brass, they retook The University, The Emulsion Pumping Station, The City Hall, and the City Armory. Granted, the Grubs were not the COG, but they had managed to curb casualties over night. The Raid on Mísits was taught in the academy ever after as an example of quick thinking in emergency situations. I half hoped Malgov would take him up on it. He didn't of course.

"Duly noted, Lieutenant. When you reach the rank of General, you can make that call but untill I see stars on your helmet, you can stick your ideas up your ass and sit on them!" Malgov shouted, "I don't cair what you see or what you hear out there, you will not go near those doors. If anyone trys to open them without orders, you will be shot for desertion! Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir yes, Sir!" we shouted. Truthfully, my heart wasn't in it. This was a mistake, and I knew it. We should have been out there fighting, not cooped up here. I wanted to hold this tower as much as the next soldier, but not with our city in such destress.

I remember Brötlovich and I climbed up to the fourth floor and took up a position by one of the many broken windows. These upper levels were large tiled airas, with status of both God and the Saints. They were sparten at the most, as this church tower was considered at test to the men of the cloth. When one ment to show his ultimate faith to The Lord, they would climb up to the top floor, and ring the bell there. These airas had no seating, nor any sort of comfort, so that if one was to rest on the way up, they had to do so on the cold floor. From here, I had a full view of Chalitz.

When I last saw the city from atop Parliament, it was in the beginning stages of destruction. Now, it was an absolute disaster zone. Nearly every rooftop burned with flames, and smoke obscured the sky. Streets were pockmarked with craters and Emergence Holes. One of the tower "limbs" of the Pom Di Diata, The Pinnacle Roost, was devastated. It was once a perfectly round skyscraper, though now it was brutally blown in half. Smoke rose from the twisted remains that jutted up in metal spikes, almost like clawed fingers trying to reach up to its former position in the skyline. Grey smoke mingled with black any yellow, filling the air with the acid stench of burning Emulsion. Flecks of yellow rained down like snow from the clouds, next to white ashs that fluttered in the wind.

I could see tracer rounds tearing through the air here and their, and the constant sound of gun fire never stopped. Every time I heard a yell, Human or Bestial, I felt a pin pick of guilt. We should have been out there.

Malgov was wrong. He had sat behind a desk for ten years and didn't know what war was like anymore. He rode on the fame of one battle he won in the Pendulum Wars, one battle he brought back from the brink of destruction. During The Dügvelve Assault, he put together a dareing siege of a COG trench, and took it. The odds were seven to one in the COG's favor, and he was practically handed his title apon victory. The man I had heard of, Malgov the hero, the Turner or Tides, didn't exist. The War Hero Malgov was a product of propaganda and over exaggerated stories. All he had been was a failed protégé of a General long past, who had licked all the right boots and kissed all the right asses to get to where he was.

Brötlovich and I sat there near the window, and we waited. I remember we did not talk, we just listened to the gun fire and the screams. What was there to say? We both knew how wrong this was, having over one hundred healthy soldiers just sitting hear while our lives burned around us. We waited there, as the sun sank and darkness fell like a blanket on our fire lit city.

I found out after that in the five hours we spent waiting, key positions were lost to The Locust. During that time, forces led by Karn took over the Police Headquarters, and the city's Reserve Armory. They also destroyed the National Gold Reserve and tore the Worlöv International Airport to shreds. They wanted to make sure no one escaped, and we could salvage as little as possible if we did.

Would we have made a difference, if we had been down there that night, fighting? I can't say for sure. I know I would sleep better at night if I had at least tried. Or I would be dead. I would consider that a worthwhile death in any case.

It took The Locust some time to reach our tower, as they had been busy ripping apart society as we knew it. When they did, well... let's just say its number two on my list of worst fights I had ever been in.


	7. Chapter 7: The Fall of Gorasnaya Part 6

_(Author's Note: Thankyou to everyone who has taken the time to read this fic. For those of you who celberate it, Happy Thanksgiving! And now, without further delay, the end of The Fall of Gorasnaya story arc)_

My mind often wanders to that night, the Night of E-Day. Not alcohol, not women, not drugs, not even the War's end can make me forget it, and believe me, I have tried. I suppose that every soldier has at least on of those though, doesn't he? If he was a soldier who actually fought that is, not just stood guard on a shit splat island in the middle of the sea.

As I already said, we sat there and waited for hours, while Chalitz was sacked around us. What could we do? We had orders from an officer, and I was already in hot water with him. I didn't feel like getting shot in the field by my allies for desertion, least of all on the night when my home was most in need.

They came in the dark, but the black of night couldn't hide them. They had set too many fires to be able to hide, and the cinder glow showed them clear as day.

A pair of Drones arrived first. When I saw them I whistled to Brötlovich. He looked out the window and saw them in the street as well. They crept along the edge of the buildings down the road from the Church Tower. I could see big bolt action Longshots in their clawed hands. I took note of how the snipers were a bit different. Where the rest of the Drones were big and husky, like body builders, they were skinny, and a bit less heavy looking. They had that same grimacing smile the rest of the Grubs had, a product of their maw of teeth. I started to realize the Grubs were class baised more then anything at that point. If it was suited to a job, thats what it did, with no choice in the matter.

Brötlovich aimed his Booshka at one, but I put my hand on it and pushed it down. I wanted to see what they were doing. Maybe if I could understand there tactics, I could kill them more easily.

My patients paid off in some way. I saw one back against a building's doorway, and peek around the corner. He looked through the scope around the street, then made a few hand motions to his friend. The second Locust moved up, and also scanned with his scope. They were scouts. That alone proved to me that Rikliff was right, as if I needed more proof at that point. They were employing sophisticated military tactics. Tactics that required thought.

I saw the one on the left raise his rifle up toward the Tower, scanning.

"Fire," I whispered to my friend.

I fired on the one to the left, my burst spraying across his face. Brötlovich fired the Booshka.

With a thump his grenade shot out and bounced along the cobble stones like a rubber ball, rolling to a stop at the sniper's feet. It yelled and started to run but it couldn't make it.

_Boom._ It disappeared beneath a cloud of dust. I felt fairly proud of myself, having finally accomplished something that night. It was short lived. Things went down hill fast after that.

After ten minutes of nothing, I caught sight of more Grubs incoming. There was about a group of ten, all Drones wielding shotguns and Hammerbursts. They were moving from house wall to house wall, cairfully. They were trying to be stealthy, I thought.

"We got bogies incoming!" I heard someone's voice echo from the lower floors.

"Light em up!" someone else shouted. Heavy fire exploded from the floors below us, the Markza rounds tearing into the Drones running for shelter. I joined in, volleying the reminder of my clip into the closest Locust. Brötlovich held off, not wishing to waist grenades or shotgun shells, as that was useless against anything at this range. I reloaded, checking how many clips of ammo I had left. Four after this one. I had to give them one thing, those Locust came prepared for a fight. I was greatfull they carried so much ammo.

My eyes caught something else soon after. It was something small, about the size of a dog. It scurryed quickly from one alley to the next, but I got a good look at it. It almost looked like some grotesque, mutant tick. It scuttled from place to place with a pair of long arms attached to its bulbous body. It had an orange tank riveted to its back, filled with Emulsion. We would call them Tickers later, partially because of their appearance, but also because of the tell tail tick-tack noise they made with their pincers.

I saw a stray round hit the Ticker, and was shocked at the reaction it had. It exploded in a ball or fire, leaving a scorched crater in its spot.

For a second I thought it was stupid. Why have something alive strapped with a bomb? It was a waist of resources, and a detriment to to themselves, especially if it should blow up in there midst. I soon understood.

First I saw one skitter from the left alley, then a pair from the right. Two more came from up the street and another two from the left. I started firing on them, as did Brötlovich with his shotgun. More bullets flew at them from the other floors.

Miniature explosions tore into the street, but the wave of Tickers surged from all sides. We tried to hit them all, but it was inevitable that a few would get through. I head the loud boom, and felt the tower stutter ever so slightly. It was enough to feel, but not to knock me off balance.

I threw more rounds down at the street as another Ticker swarm zoomed into view. I saw one explode, then another, under my gun.

I instinctively ducked as glass shattered somewhere above my head. Fine colored particles showerd down on me, grazing down my back. I felt a twinge of pain near my forehard and warm blood trail down my nose. I couldn't worry about superficial cuts right now, no matter how they stung.

Behind the Tickers I could see Locust troops marching in. A lot of them. Some were Drones, wielding Gnasher Shotguns and Hammerbursts. Others Therons, there metal coats and mask-like helms looking more menacing in the orange firelight. Some carried Torque Bows, the mouth of wich were already glowing neon yellow. Others carried those big cleavers, both weapon and weilder smeared with fresh blood. On both the left and right side of the street I cought sight of two Boomers. One was a Grinder, with his Mulcher Gatling Gun, bucket helm and high coller. The other was a standerd Boomer, armed with the Locust grenade launcher. His craggy face was a mess. Its fanged mouth was missing teeth, knocked out by gunfire, and its beady left eye was nothing but a ragged, seeping hole. Neither wound seemed to phase him, as he continued to march forward.

It was a trap. Our side was shooting at the Locusts carrying guns, not at the exploding Tickers. That was what they wanted, ignore the walking bombs for the threat shooting back. It wasn't fooling me. My bursts took down another pair of Tickers, shooting their chunks airborn. More explosions shook the building, knocking unstable shards of glass crashing into to street.

_Tank Tank._ I heard that heavy metal clank of Torque Bow bolts burying themselves in the stone. I ducked, and felt the small bombs rumble thrugh the lower floor, and saw the window below us explode outword. I popped back up and sent another volley down the road.

The Tickers were gone, only footsoldiers remained, and they were in a hurry. I assumed the Tickers had done there job softening up the bottem levels fortifications. I saw them all begin to run, firing in mass at the upper windows, all except the pair of Boomers. Nether of them sped up. Insted I saw the Grinder starting to crank the handel of his machine gun, and the other aim his Boomshot at the front door. I could assume it was already weak from the Ticker swarm, it probably couldn't take much more.

Gunshots lit the air from the floor below, colliding with the oncoming Grubs. I saw some of the Drones fall, while others stopped to return fire. The air around us was drowned in a blaze of bullets as the Grinder's first salvo tore into the tower. It peppered one of the lower floors, the sound of shattering glass deafening. I took aim at the big bruser and started clipping him. My first burst of rounds missed, grazing its protective metal coller. I adjusted my aim a bit, more for his torso. My next sevral shots hit its chest.

I saw a heavy Markza round blow the bucket hat off off its ugly head, and a pair of armored Drones flew past my vision, rocketed in the air by a grenade.

"Move!" Brötlovich yelled. He grabbed my coller and violently tugged me backwards. I hit the marble floor hard, almost dropping my gun.

Up above, a Torque Bow bolt smashed through the top of the window, sticking into the ceiling. A huge chunk of sharp glass cascaded down like a guillotine where I had just been, shattering into a thousand pieces. I hadn't the time to think of how dead I would be had Brötlovich not pulled me backwards, because up above, the lodged bolt exploded.

I covered my face as chunks of ceiling tiles blew across the room. My hearing whistled from the headache inducing noise, and dust choked my nose and mouth. I coughed and sputtered, wiping the mix of blood and dirt off my forehead.

I looked around. Other then a manhole sized gap in the ceiling, the room had held up. Brötlovich was already on his feet, and heading back for the window. I started to stand, but stumbled as yet another earthquake tore into the tower, followed by a visible ball of fire combusting up past the window. I guessed what happened before the other trooper ran up the stairs behind us.

"They've breached the doors!" he screamed, "Get down stairs! Now! Hurry!"

I didn't question, but through all the dirt, the gunfire, and the blood, that feeling settled in my stomic. It was that impending doom one feels, I would assume, as they know their walking to their execution. That the ever swinging pendulum of your looming death was now only inches away from ripping away your life. I'm a career pessimist, I'll admit that, and I knew the second I felt that explosion, there was a snow ball's chance in hell of holding this tower. Less then that now, our snowball was already a quickly evaporating puddle.

We ran down the stairs, meeting up with the groups from the floors below us. We all stopped on the first floor's balcony, over looking the main chapel.

There was so much gunfire in the room it was foggy with gun smoke. Orange and yellow tracers buzzed back and forth like angry bees, plinking and ricocheting off of every conceivable surface.

Our side were taking cover behind what was left of the pews, either moved or blown away from the door. Others had no cover at all, unfortunate considering the circumstances. The front door was blown off the hinges, and laying flat on the stone floor. The doorway was larger now, where parts of the wall had been blown away by grenades and Tickers. Bodys of the invading army were piled at the front, caught in the murderous crossfire.

The Locust didn't cair. They didn't even attempt to take cover. They just kept walking and shooting, on top of their dead comrades. I automatically took aim at the first Grub I saw, a big shirtless bastard with a grenade belt strapped to his chest. I sent a burst at him, burning a cluster of seven holes in its head. As it fell back, I took aim at the Theron Guard next to him, and fired on him.

My aim was a tick off, only two or three rounds clipping his clawed arm. I saw its Torque Bow fire, sticking into a soldier running for cover. It was only a second after I heard a loud, wet, boom, followed by splintered wood and chunks of flesh shooting into the air. I shot the Theron again as he reloded, this time flush in the stomic. He fell back, to be finished off by a shotgun blast from some where else.

I glanced backwords, toward the back of the church. Malgov was there, standing behind the alter. He had his Lancer in his hand, but he wasn't shooting. I could tell by his posture and how he was waving his arms he was barking orders. All the gun shots were drowning him out.

I set my sights on another Locust, this one holding a Lancer. Just as I was about to fire, its white head exploded in a shower of blood. I was not at a loss for enemies however. I saw one step up right behind it, with with a bullet scared breastplate and a sawed off shotgun.

It aimed up at the balcony and fired both barrels simultaneously. I ducked just before the buckshot spattered the railings. Next to me, I saw one of my comrades fall back, hit by the gun. When I popped back up, I emptyed my clip into it.

I reloaded, and saw one of the big Boomers step into view. It was the same half-blind Grub I saw before.

"Boom!" I heard his deep voice call. He blasted through the doorway.

His cluster bombs hit the front row of defenders in a cacophony of screams. It stuck in my head, how in one shot, ten people were obliterated into a cloud of crimson mist.

Brötlovich struck next, shooting at it with the Booshka. The grenade can bounced and rolled up near the feet of the Boomer. I thought for sure it would be a kill.

Then, a Drone run up next to it. I fired on it, riddling its side with most of the burst, but it made no difference. With a kick worthy of a professional Thrashball game, it booted the cylinder grenade into the air. It arced and landed in amongst a line of our defenders. I inwardly cringed as the grenade exploded and I heard the screams. Booshka rounds were not like the Boomshot. Boomshots were ment to kill everything they hit. The Booshka was ment to kill the closest man and throw shrapnel at everyone else. Considering I could see at least ten men grounded near the shallow mark it created, I knew it had succeeded in its job. With our forces already dwindling beneath this vicious assault, there was no way in hell we could afford a hit like that.

My slugs found a home in the Boomers chest as he reloded, pumping his Boomshot. He bairly faltered as he popped off another rocket.

This one was too high and hit the back wall, warping the bottem of the giant cross hanging in the back of the church. I saw it twist and lean, straining to hold itself up, but it would not last. Beneath it stood Malgov, unaware of the steel construct about to smash down apon him.

I cracked off another seven rounds, destroying the remainder of its ugly face. It fell head first into the wall, its own weight tearing away already fragile bricks, collapsing them on him.

I glanced back again. The big cross was starting to lean, and the bolts holding it in place were springing loose. It was going to fall at any moment. Malgov was right in its path.

As much as I disliked him, and thought he was a useless pile of shit trapped in the armor of a man twice his worth, I wasn't just going to let him die. That's not how real soldiers work. Even if we hate each other, we're brothers to the last bullet.

"Malgov! Look out!" I shouted, sending covering fire at the doorway. I saw the soldier look up at me, likely confused, then he looked back. His delay almost cost him everything. He looked back just as the cross came tumbling down. I saw Malgov dive sideways, the huge cross shattering the stone alter apon its terrible impact. The heavy right arm barely missed Malgov as he hit the floor on his stomach.

As he stood up, something was... different about him, like a switch flipped in his head. It was in his posture, the authoritative way he carried himself suddenly. He wasn't just shouting that he was in charge, he was carrying himself like he was. The way his head darted back and forth reminded me of an animal on the hunt. I saw him scoop up a Lancer from a near by soldier's corpse, aim, and fire. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was suddenly focused less on orders and more on survival. Perhaps that near death experience was the boot in the ass he needed. Maybe I was looking at the Malgov who took the COG trench at Dügvelve.

I didn't have the time to think about it, not right then. The Locust were swarming through the doors unhindered. I saw a pair of Cleaver Therons rush through and into the ever dwindling front line, swinging away with what could only be considered joy. One was blown backwords by a shotgun, devastated. The other lopped off one of its attackers heads, then buryed its cleaver in a second mans gut. I aimed down at its back, ready to kill the trench coat clad assailant, but a swarm of tracers whizzed passed my face, only inches from taking off my nose. I ducked back as more shot over me. I heard Brötlovich return fire, his the boom of his Gnasher ringing in my head. I peaked back up, and shot a blind burst down below. I heard and felt another explosion, this one close, and accompanied the human shouts of pain.

I looked down at a big, white Locust was standing on the left side of the flattened door. He had a bandolier of grenades across his muscular chest, and a strange triangle shaped mask. Made of metal, it had only a pair of eye holes, and a round hole for its sharp toothed mouth. He was flinging a grenade around on a chain in one hand, and holding a snub pistol in the other.

It pissed me off. Bolo Grenades were, yet again, our technology, that they stole. Alright, technically they were COG technology, but we perfected them. The concept of grenades were simple. With a normal round grenade, it relied on the strength of the user as to how far they could throw it. So they modified them, adding a length of chain to it. That way you could spin them around vertically, like the Bolo they were named for, and achieve a longer throw. With practice, you could even get more accurate with them then if you were throwing them normally. We got ahold of them, and made them even better. We added spikes to them, so you could stick them to a wall, a person, or just about anything else and turn them into a landmines. It was an ingenious modification, one the COG kept. I was tired of seeing the Locust killing us with our own shit.

I saw a group of yellow Lancer rounds splat into it, but the Locust tossed the grenade anyway, likely satisfied with the screams he heard followed by an explosion. There weren't many places for people to run down there. A grenade was a death sentence.

So I joined in, peppering the grenade's holder with a burst. I saw it double over, blood pumping from the multiple holes burned in its gut. It looked up at me with its yellow reptile eyes, struggling to raise its pistol up at me.

One of its compatriots walked up next to it, and knocked the wounded creature out of the way with its forearm. This one was shirtless, with a big steel shoulder guard covered in spikes. Its sharp toothed mouth was warped into a grim smile, like it was actually having a good time. In the same quick motion, it pointed a big Boltok revolver at me, and fired.

They say when you think your going to die, your life flashes before your eyes. I didn't have that. I saw that muzzle flash and it was like the whole world slowed down. The sounds, voices and gunshots dulled like I was trapped under water, and I knew there was no way I could move fast eneugh to beat that bullet. No one can.

I remember I threw my hands up in front of my face, like it would make a difference. The Boltok shot jacketed hollow points. It would blow right through my hand. I shut my eyes and waited for the pain. Nothing happened. A split second later, and I heard a dull clunk next to me. The Boltok shot had missed me. I caught something out of the corner of my eye, and made the mistake of looking at it. To this day, I still wish I hadn't.

Next to me, Brötlovich was laying on the floor. His head was practically gone, nothing left but a mashed up mess of blood and crushed bones. He still had the Booshka in a death grip in his hands.

I ducked behind the railing, and looked down at my dead friend. Never again would I hear his boisterous voice echoing through the barracks, or see that mischievous grin when he was about to pull a prank on someone. I had known him my entire life, and now, my best friend was just... gone in the snap of a finger. A mix of emotions swirled around inside my pain riddled gut. Sadness, greif, guilt that he took a bullet ment to kill me. One dominated all the others, forcing everything down elsewhere.

Rage. First they killed my CO, then they tore apart my government and almost killed me. Then they destroyed my city to a point where I wasn't sure we could even rebuild it to a fraction of what it once was. Now, they had killed my best friend so brutally I couldn't even recognize him anymore. What right did these... monsters have?

My hands trembling, I shouldered the Hammerburst, tore the Booshka out of Brötlovich's hands, and grabbed his ammo belt. They were going to die for what they did. I was ready to kill every last Grub myself if I had to.

As I rose up, I aimed the lime green launcher at the Grub that killed Kerin, and pulled the trigger. The canister thumped out, and landed right at the Grubs feet. He got off a second shot at another balcony defender before the grenade turned him into a red smear. I aimed in the center of the doorway and the crowed there in. I knew it wouldn't take them all out, but it wouldn't do them any good.

_Thump. _It landed in between the legs of a Theron guard. It was almost comical because he was running and tripped over it, landing right on top of it as it exploded. I shot a third out the door and into the crowd, unable to see if it did any good. My last bounced off the wall, landing behind a Drone with a pair of goggles on, killing it instantly.

I began to reload, pulling the drum clip out. I saw a group of Locust near the back of the crowd who peaked my attention, due to the odd look about them. They were just as scaly and muscular as the rest, but their helmets were strange. They looked like a pair of insect eyes at first glance, like those of a giant fly. I realized however, they were an odd mixture of goggles and binoculars, meant for judging distances. All eight of the creatures pulled big iron grappling hooks off their backs, and violently threw them skyword, angled at the tower. Each gave the rope attached a tug, then they rapidly started to climb, disappearing from sight.

They were flanking us from the last place we would expect, above. I started shouting that some had scailed up the side of the building, trying to alert some one. Anyone. A few of the near by snipers heard me and ran back up the stairs, Markza's ready to fire. The fifty or so men left on the ground floor were far too distracted by the ever consuming siege to hear anything. I finished loading the Booshka, and steeled myself.

I heard something else, something that was like music to my ears. Barely audible over all the war noise, I heard the distinctive whirring drone, that thup thup sound of rotating blades. There was a chopper outside, a King Raven. It was military, meaning it was either reinforcements or an evac. I hoped it was the latter.

Through the next wave of Locust, stepped another Grinder. I wasn't sure if it was the same one I hit before, but it didn't matter.

"For the Horde!" it shouted, and started turning the handle.

Just as the onslaught of bullets started, I heard Malgovs voice.

"Retreat! Get up stairs! Now! Run!"

If he said anymore, the gunfire drowned him out. The deadly volly tore into the crowd of men defending the door. I understood how the Mulcher got its name after that, as it tore apart every man cought in its path of destruction. Some tried to run for the stairs and were killed for it, others tried to hide or fight and met the same fate.

I shot the Booshka down at the monster, the grenade coming to a stop near it. In a cloud of dust and splinters, it burst. I saw the fire stop momentarily, and it's silhouette stumble backwards. This gave the remaining men time to run, charging up the stairs. I sent another grenade in the direction of the other Locust troops, killing or stunning a few of them.

The Grinder recovered, the nine foot behemoth now dripping dark red. I shouldered my Booshka, turned on my heels, and ran too, beginning the treck up the tower. I tried to count the men in front and in back of me, but we were running to fast. I could estimate there were less then thirty left after the Grinder's platoon annihilating assault.

It was interesting to me. We were running up a tower climbed by those who wanted to prove their faith to God. In this case faith had little to do with it. In order to survive, we had to run, plane and simple.

As I hit the sixth floor, myself and the small group ahead of me were forced to stop. As we rounded the corner, a burst of bullets shot at our heads. Myself and about six others were the first to hit this floor, other then the snipers who had climbed the steps earlyer. They were all dead however, and everyone else was behind. I could hear gunfire echoing from the floor below, so I knew the Locust had caught up to the main group. Our attackers were the Grapplers I saw scale the outside. There were no places to take cover in the sparten marble room. As a result, the first Trooper who entered the room was killed, hit in the chest. I ripped the Hammerburst off my back, and fired at the first Grappler.

My sniper training paid off, as the rounds hit the Locust's bug like helm. The force knocked it backwords, into one of its friends. Both stumbled a bit to far, clumsily crashing out the window. Three of the other troopers joined me, shooting at the enemy with Lancers. The other two tried to run by, but failed. A Grappler with a Gnasher Shotgun took down one, the blast throwing him into the wall. The other was felled by a Lancer. I shot the Grappler with the shotgun, knocking him down before he could even pump the thing. I saw another tumble face first into the marble, and a third backed agenst a wall beneath a flurry of Lancer rounds.

The two other Grapplers returned fire. I hit one, knocking his aim off enough so he missed the man next to me. The other trooper was not so lucky, his chest peppered by two Hammerburst bursts. I shot my Grappler again, this time in the legs, knocking him down. The unknown soldier next to me hit his as well, spraying a heavy stream into its torso. I finished off my Grub as his fell dead. I looked at him, and we nodded at each other, him wiping the condensation off his breather helm.

" Kretchankov," I hastily said.

"Taporev," he replied. I ran to the side of one of the dead, Hammerbust weilding Locust and ripped the ammo off his belt. I was almost out.

I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs behind me and whipped around, ready to kill. First, Rikliff appeared. The engineer was covered in a fine layer of dust, and I could see blood drooling from his mouth. Malgov followed him, his helmet dented on the right side. The red bearded Gärtropov came up next. He was holding his shoulder. I could see a ragged hole between his fingers. Two more men I didn't know followed him up.

"We've got to go, now!" Malgov shouted, "The chopper is circling the tower and signalling with the lights there here to evac us, we just have to get to somewhere flat enough for it to land!"

"The top of the Tower, next to the bell housing," I said. I had been here so many times, I knew the roof was large enough.

"Their coming, let's fucking go!" Gärtropov yelled. I heard a gutteral voice yell from the stairwell.

"Die Groundwalker!" Gärtropov spun around and shot his Lancer down the stairs, the Hammerburst rounds whizzing by his head. After a quick burst he ran forward with Malgov next to him, and Rikliff right behind. I backed up facing the stairs as they moved up to the next floor along with Taporev and the other two troopers.

A big, white grenadier ran up the steps and before he even had a chance to fire I lit him up. He hit the floor hard. Another appeared, and I shot him as well, this one tumbling down the steps with a crash.

I ran up the steps, starting our ascent of the skyscraper. We could run faster, but Locust Footsoldiers had two hearts. They didn't tire as fast, and could eventually out run us. The run up the church tower was grueling even for a fit man. Even with the benefit of adrenaline, it would was a difficult treck.

I just ran. The stairs rose up and up seemingly forever. I didn't cair how my legs burned, how my muscles cramped, or how much pain I was in. We had to run. Run or die.

It was probably half way up the Grubs started catching up. I saw and felt the orange slugs trace past the back of my head, blowing chunks out of the wall in front of me. I turned around, and fired blind. I was lucky enough to actually hit the Drone on the landing, and he fell painfully down the stairs. Another came into view, this one was a Theron, holding that deadly crossbow they loved so much. I paniced. I had to reload, I was as good as dead.

Rikliff's shotgun exploded right next to my head. Painfull ringing filled my ears as I went deaf, but I didn't cair. The Locust downstairs was hit full blast, killed almost instantly. Rikliff pulled a grenade off his belt, and stuck it to the wall.

"Give em something to think about," he said. I ran right after him. Around two floors later we felt the explosion. We were pretty sure the stairs collapsed, or at least hoped they did. If that was the case we had bought ourselves some time. If not...

I remember when we reached the top, my legs felt like they had been burned by a Scorcher. I was practically frothing at the mouth, and it felt like I had just run across the whole city and back again. We had made it to the top though, like we really had a choice in the matter.

This was an observation balcony, with the bell housing's roof up a set of large stairs. The housing itself was a big structure made of marble columns. Through these columns, one could see the massive bronze bell, that when rung, would echo across the city as though it was ringing from heaven itself. The thick rope used to ring the bell was neatly wrapped around the columns. The bell housing's roof was a flat thirty foot surface, perfect for a King Raven. On days of religious reverence,St. Dägolhov's choir would gather atop the bell housing, the the pinnacle of the tower, one of the highest points in all the city, and sing hymns and psalms in God's name. It ws almost like standing on The Lords doorstep.

From here, we could see the entire city. The view would have been breath taking, were the sky not choked with smoke and every visible structure crumbling or on fire. I could feel the Tower starting to quake. I couldn't really see the bottom of the tower from all the way up here, not with all of the battle fog, so I could only guess what was causing it. I assumed it was Boomshots, Grenades and Tickers. I found out a bit after the battle, that they had called up one of those big spiders the Locust used to dig tunnels, Corpsers they called them. They were using it to tear apart the bottem floors. Far off, I could see the green and yellow helicopter patrolling the city, its giant spotlight illuminating the roofs of the buildings.

Rikliff rushed up the steps to the top of the tower, waving his arms and shouting. Taporev joined him, aiming his Lancer into the air and firing it off. Their attempt to get the chopper's attention worked. It turned, facing the tower with the blinding spot light. It flicked the light on and off three times. That was the UIR chopper code for evacuation.

It buzzed back over, moving as quickly as it was able. Just then, I heard Malgov start shouting.

"Their coming up the stairs!" He blasted away with his Lancer down into the stair's entrance. I saw rounds ricochet off the wall next to him, and he recoiled aside. Gärtropov ran to back him up, shooting into the stairwell. I rushed over to help when, abruptly, a pair of rounds smashed into Gärtropov's armor, burning ragged holes right through it. He fell back with a yell of horrible pain.

The wind kicked up by the chopper blew at my back as it began to land, and I grabbed Gärtropov's shoulders.

"Get him out of here! I'll hold them off!" Malgov yelled, throwing another burst of Lancer rounds into the stair well. I couldn't see from this angle how many Locust there were, but I saw a pair of Torque Bow bolts whiff right past Malgov's head. He didn't even flinch, just kept right on firing. Both exploded harmlessly in the air. I dragged Gärtropov back as quick as I could. Rikliff ran down to help me, grabbing the mans legs, and hauling him up.

"I can't feel my legs," the man gurgled through the blood in his mouth, "Don't let me die, not here. I have to find my kids," Those words... broke my heart. It should have been me, a man with no one, not a man with children.

"Your fine, your going to be fine," Rikliff said back. The chopper had landed, and I saw the doors were open. Taporev and the other two troopers had already entered, and were waving at us to enter. We hustled, and laid Gärtropov in the bay, then climbed up ourselves.

"Malgov! Come on!" I screamed over the loud roar of blades. I saw him look at me and start stepping back. The whole building suddenly shook and shifted, jerking the chopper sideways.

"I've got to take off!" the pilot yelled, "I don't know how much more this building can take!"

"Bring it around and hover on the eastern side! We can pick Malgov up from there!" I yelled back. There were chain guns on board, pointing out of the bay. I manned one, and yanked back the saifty.

The chopper lept skyword, buzzing in a half circle around the church tower, stopping behind Malgov. We hovered about four feet from the edge, definitely a reasonable distance.

I saw Malgov glance back at us, and start jogging backwards. He let off a few more shots, then turned and ran. The Grubs came out of the stairwell, aiming right at his back. I opened fire with the Chaingun, mowing them down. They barely had a chance to move. I smiled inwardly when Malgov reached the edge. He was going to make it.

The building beneath his feet jerked violently, rocked again by the assault. Malgov stumbled as he jumped, grasping at the chopper's rails desperately.

I watched his fingers slide right passed, grazing it, as he tumbled from view. Rikliff dove for his hand, but it was too late. General Malgov was swallowed the smoke below, the ashen clouds erasing his flailing arms from view.

The chopper lifted off and we sped away. I heard rounds bounce off our hull, but they couldn't damage us. I remember we flew over Chalitz through the smoke and fire. The city I grew up in, the city I loved was ruined, drowned beneath death and fire. There was not a damn thing I could do about it.

* * *

><p>"So, tell me Mr. Jamieson, is that the sort of story you are looking for," Vladimir Kretchankov finished. He crossed his arms and tilted his head back.<p>

"Thats exactly what I'm looking for," I replied, "Thankyou for telling it."

"Any questions?" he asked.

"One actually, how did you loose your hand?" I returned. He smirked at me.

"I'll tell you what, I will make you a deal. You give me a call in a few weeks, and I'll tell you that story. I've talked about Grubs enough for one day."

That was fair, and I respected his wishes, not wanting to press the issue. It would be disrespectful. He stood up.

"If there is nothing else, I will take my leave," he said. He had that far off look. He was done talking. I cocouldn't blame him".

Actually, there is one more thing. I would like to get a picture of you for your section of the book." He smiled.

"Alright." I got my camera, and he posed. He stood very straight, and crossed one arm across his chest, his hand in a fist. His face was stoic, and refined. I snapped the picture. After a few personal words, the "True Gorasni" left. I was thankfull for both his story and his sacrifice.


End file.
